Blind Faith
by theatrics
Summary: The last Shelley had heard of her, she was supposedly doing some state college proud. No one knew. Then again, no one but Shelley truly cared.


**It felt so amazing to write these two again. I missed my little Shelley Anne and Amber Olivia _so_, so much. Hee. My heart just surges with happiness with these two, as they will always, always hold a indescribably special place in my girl's and my heart. They'll always be our most-loved couple! So, here's a little, long overdue oneshot for our sweet and beautiful duo. Over a year and a half of love for them! :)  
**

**To you, Tracy: my love, my muse, my everything. These are _our_ girls! I love you, sweetie!**

* * *

It was difficult to think that it had been five years since the end of the Corny Collins Show. Eventually the craze had trickled down to just a few episodes a week, until there was—more or less—nothing left.

Shelley Ambrose certainly hadn't minded. It meant she could move on, break free from the chains that shackled her to the trash bin that was Baltimore, Maryland. She had places to be, opportunities to shine on her own.

However, leaving was easier said than done. It required motivation, desire, and a certain and special state of mind. Shelley possessed the initial two, but the final proposition was completely lost to her.

Though she dappled in various things, such as moving to New York, and then to New Jersey, and then inevitably back to Maryland, everything was hazy and undesirable. She now owned a dance studio of her own where she taught her young pupils the more classic styles of dance.

Shelley's own dance instructor of countless years, Alexandra, had moved on to California, leaving Shelley in her dust. It made Shelley feel bitter at times. Everyone around her had essentially cut the filthy ties of Baltimore, but she had yet to do so. She, who was so set on leaving,—most of all—was stuck, without any explanation as to why.

Even Amber von Tussle had escaped.

Oh, Amber von Tussle, indeed. Shelley flinched at the thought. Not a day went by that her mind didn't stir up that inner controversy.

They had gotten themselves in a heap of trouble when they were in high school. It was no secret that the pair of them had something or another going on between them. Eventually their parents uncovered their little tryst and forced them to cut all ties. Shelley couldn't openly say how that affected her, but being the owner of a human heart as she was—she supposed anyone could suspect how wretched she felt.

Never did it occur to her that there was any tangible reason for her love-hate attraction to Baltimore. After all, Amber was long-gone. The last Shelley had heard of her, she was supposedly doing some state college proud. Was it in New York? California? Illinois? No one knew.

Then again, no one but Shelley truly cared.

No one spoke of the Corny Collins Council members anymore. Velma von Tussle had packed up shop and left town as soon as Amber had graduated high school. The Ambroses and Von Tussles had not spoken since the end of Amber and Shelley's junior years. After the whole discovery of Shelley and Amber's secret relationship, their families had all the more reason to continue openly detesting one another.

In the back of Shelley's mind, she wondered how Amber was doing, whether or not college life was suiting her well enough, and whether or not she saw her leave worth it. Obviously, in Amber's mind, she had it set in stone that there was no life left for her back in Baltimore—back with Shelley.

Nevertheless, it was presumably expected, Shelley supposed. They were moderately inclusive. Their pledge of commitment to one another during their stint together was essentially the definition of a monogamous and promising relationship; however, in 1962 Baltimore, Maryland, the guarantees shared between partners were more than impossible to sustain.

Shelley smiled at the thought, however. If those promises were so difficult, she wondered to herself from time to time, then how is that a retired and glorified _slut_ has remained celibate for over five years now? The notion was baffling and heart-warming, just as it was understandable and capable of making Shelley feel numb and swallowed-up in sorrow.

Perhaps her desire to return to Baltimore after so many failed attempts at leaving wasn't so far-fetched after all. In any case, it was an idea that constantly played in her head as she watched in silence as her pupils repeated the dance moves that she expectantly performed for them.

"We are finished for the day," Shelley announced in her honey-rich voice, as she stepped away from her students in an almost imaginative flow.

The bustle and noise made by her pupils went unnoticed as Shelley drifted back into her office. A glance at her calendar made her mind reel with disbelief. It was July of 1967. With a sly smirk of sorts, she dismissed the date with a mere shrug of her shoulders.

No matter how many times the date reminded her, she would perhaps never feel her age. Emotionally, she felt old, tired, and run-down. Sleep never came easy, but then again—what satisfaction came of something so easily obtained?

As she shuffled through a couple of applications for new hired help, namely, assistants, she frowned as she realized that most had few, if any, of the qualities or qualifications that she preferred in her dance studio.

Grace, beauty, experience, humility, and the openness to learn.

There came a small rap on her door, and Shelley turned around abruptly, her pale eyes narrowed in confusion. There were strict rules in her studio; students were discouraged from stepping into her private quarters.

In spite of this, Shelley whipped around in a flash, mentally preparing herself to scold the student that dare interrupt her at this moment of quiet reflection. Yet, as her eyes laid upon the near timid silhouette that blocked her doorway, her mouth nearly fell to the floor. Her eyes were glued to the feminine frame, made of a beauty that belonged to one person and one person alone.

"Amber," the name was foreign to Shelley now, and it felt dry and uncertain on her tongue.

The blue-eyed blonde watched Shelley for several long moments. All at once, Shelley felt consumed with virtually every emotion that stirred within Amber at that single moment: despair, regret, loneliness, apology, a sense of failure, hope, determination, passion, and… unbridled love and affection.

Shelley licked her lips, and then pursed them uncertainly.

Gliding on grace and humility, Amber dropped her purse at the door, and then stepped forward. Her intentions were clear, yet Shelley still found herself reluctant.

Anger roared within her, stirring up conflicted feelings. Part of her wished to fling curses at the other girl, damning her for ever thinking it acceptable to leave her alone like this, for deserting her, for scorning her in such an unforgivable way. However, the other—more prominent mindset—part of Shelley longed to simply wrap Amber up in her arms, curl her own hands at the dainty and sweet small of Amber's back, and speak those three, beautiful words into her ear again.

Shelley bit her tongue. Amber appeared set on moving forward once more. A look of certainty reflected in the blonde's eyes, as she eyed the redhead that she still revered as beyond precious and sacred. Their past experiences sparked between them, luring and pulling them closer.

In a moment of blind faith, Amber took the final leap. It was nearly unseen, how their arms found their way around one another, how Shelley's lips found their way adjacent to Amber's soft and beckoning ear. In one moment of openness and willingness displayed by Amber, Shelley realized her true calling and reasoning for her inability to merely close the chapter on Baltimore.

There had been missing pages and words. The time of healing and revitalizing had peaked on the horizon, just as beautifully as her hand fit into Amber's.

Her heart fluttered with emotion as she shielded and defended Amber with her warm and accepting embrace.

"Welcome home, Amber," Shelley whispered softly into the other girl's ear, causing her to stifle a small, ticklish giggle.

"Shelley," she began, as Shelley visibly held her breath. "I've waited so long to get here."


End file.
